Champagne and Strawberries
by NancyMay
Summary: A Valentine's Day story, featuring our beloved doctor and his wife, the first as a married couple. Hastily written after reading the fb stream. Enjoy.


Jean turned over to find the place beside her empty. It was a bit early for Lucien to be up, too early for him to bring tea in, she shrugged her shoulders and headed to take care of her insistent bladder, in the bathroom. When she returned to the bedroom he was there, the tea tray on the end of the bed, decorated by a single red rose, she smiled, 'silly, romantic fool,' she thought.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he rose to meet her, holding out his hands to take hers. He drew her into a long, passionate kiss, "Happy Valentine's Day."

"To you too," she hummed, then returned the kiss. "Thank you," she turned to the tray and lifted the rose to take in the perfume.

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"Honestly, Lucien," she gasped, breathless from his lovemaking, "we're too old for this."

"Speak for yourself," he wriggled down and started to kiss her belly and stroke her breasts.

"Oh!" she squeaked, "aah! mmm..." all she could do was groan as he touched and tasted all the parts he had touched and tasted before, explored her with his fingers as she started to buck against him and he rolled her on top to let her settle over him and set up her rocking rhythm until she arched back and screamed his name, then fell onto his chest, gasping for breath.

"Too old, eh?" he stroked her back, "just as well you have nothing to do today, no surgery and I'm not going to the morgue."

"How do you know you're not going to the morgue?" she lifted her head and looked at him.

"Mine to know, I've arranged for Alice to cover anything that comes in," he kissed the top of her head.

"Poor Alice," she sighed, "what if she had plans?"

"I checked, she hasn't," he smirked "Shall I run your bath, or do you need a nap?"

She hit is shoulder, feebly, "cheek."

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She headed for the bathroom as he took the tray back to the kitchen and smiled as she opened the door. He had run the bath, put her favourite scented bath foam in and sprinkled red rose petals over the bubbles. Now, was he planning on joining her?

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The bath was completely cold when they finally got out. Him first, wrapping a towel round his waist, then holding a large fluffy towel out for her. He wrapped her in it and held her close,

"I love you Mrs Blake," he whispered, tenderly in her ear.

"Oh Lucien, my dearest husband," she nestled against him and sighed.

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Dressed, hair brushed, makeup done, she headed to the kitchen for breakfast, wondering if Matthew had made his own or was waiting, which would be rather embarrassing.

He was nowhere to be found, but on the table was a vase with a dozen red roses in, the one from the tray having be returned to its home while she was in the bath. She smiled and as she went to start to cook he came up behind her and took the pan out of her hand.

"Not today, you do nothing today," he put it down and turned her round. "Sit down."

She did as she was told, wondering what he had planned, because it was obvious he had planned something. Lucien left her and went to the front door, which he opened to find the delivery he had asked for. He carried a basket back to the kitchen and put it on the table. Then got out plates, butter, jams, knives... everything they would need. She watched him finally uncover the basket in which was an assortment of croissants, pain au chocolat and brioche buns that he had asked Henri at the restaurant to prepare for him.

"Lucien!" she gasped, "this is lovely, how..?"

"Henri, I asked him how early he did the breads for the restaurant and he agreed to send a basket up this morning."

"It's lovely, thank you," she put some apricot conserve on a croissant and murmured her appreciation.

He made a fresh pot of tea and they tucked in to the pastries reminding themselves of just such breakfasts on their honeymoon, although Jean never really got the taste for coffee. When they were finished he wouldn't let her help with the washing up or putting the pots away, today, he told her, he was going to spoil her.

"You do everything for me, Jean," he kissed her cheek, "now it's my turn."

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While Lucien was spoiling Jean, Matthew was stomping towards the morgue. He knew Lucien was a romantic and was planning things for Jean, but everybody thought it would be the last thing _he_ would do, after all, you wouldn't call Alice Harvey a romantic, would you?

She wasn't in when he got there, but it would only be a matter of time, he could arrange for her to get a call, which is precisely what he was going to do.

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Alice hurried along to the morgue, apparently a body had been dropped off for her to autopsy, would she mind?

"No, no problem," she smiled down the phone, the lab was full of grinning 'ologists' swooning over their Valentines cards and gifts. She'd never had one and didn't see what all the fuss was about.

She opened the door, switched on the light and took her white coat off the hook. Turning to the table she stopped, open mouthed, there was no body, just a single red rose and a card, which on opening, was a Valentine's card, of course, obviously from Matthew, he hadn't disguised his handwriting when he had written, 'pick you up at six.'

She smiled, then laughed, she'd never taken him for a romantic, though he did buy her flowers, occasionally. She put the rose in a glass tube, the only thing she could use that would hold water and decided to spend some time checking the supplies, until she recovered her composure.

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Lucien pulled up outside the club where Cec was standing holding another basket.

"Enjoy your day, sir," he put the basket on the back seat, "Mrs Blake."

"Lucien?"

"Yes dear," he smiled and pulled away.

"What..?"

"I thought, as it's a lovely day, a picnic, Invermay?"

"Oh, that'd be lovely," she agreed and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

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Cec had put a selection of cold meats, salads and a dish of strawberries in the basket, two glasses and a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne.

"Oh this is lovely," she sat on the rug and surveyed the delights before them. "You've gone to so much trouble, Lucien."

"Neither of us have had the opportunity for a while so, and, we couldn't do anything last year, so I thought I'd try to make it up to you," he popped the cork from the champagne bottle.

"The single red rose was more than I have had since I was first married," she leant back against the tree and sipped the drink in thought, "Christopher and I, we were too busy I suppose."

He had no answer for that, but thought the farmer could have made the effort to at least get her some flowers. He made a silent promise to her that, even if he couldn't do a lot every year, she would at least get roses, the reddest ones he could find.

"I hope I'm never too busy to remember you on Valentine's Day, sweetheart," he kissed her.

"Even when we're old and grey?" she asked.

"Even then, my beautiful girl."

They spent the time sipping champagne and feeding each other strawberries, kissing and just sitting quietly. They didn't really need to talk, just be together.

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They dropped the basket back off with Cec and he drove her home, telling her they were going off again in a couple of hours and she might like to take a short nap beforehand.

She looked at him quizzically, nap, in the middle of the day? But he meant it and took her to their bedroom where he commanded her to take off enough for a nap, and then left her, in her slip, under a blanket, where, much to her surprise she dozed off.

He woke her gently with tea about an hour later.

"I'm surprised I actually slept," she sat up and pushed her hair off her face, "I've done nothing all day."

"And you're not going to do anything this evening either," he sat on the edge of the bed as they drank tea. "I've taken the liberty of choosing the outfit I'd like you to wear, so when you've finished your tea..."

"Lucien?" she searched his face for clues, but found none.

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He smiled when she came out of the bedroom, he had chosen one of his favourite dresses for an evening out, at the theatre or a restaurant. It was a fitted green satin dress, showing off her lovely figure. He had also placed an emerald necklace and earrings on the dressing table for her, a gift.

"Lucien, this, " she indicated the necklace, "is beautiful, thank you, I don't know what I've done to deserve it."

"Just being you, and being with me is what you've done." He kissed her and offered her his arm. He had his dinner suit on and looked even more handsome than usual, to her, anyway.

She had given up asking where they were going, but as they drove out of Ballarat it was obvious they were heading to Melbourne, there and back was four hours, whatever he had planned, if they weren't staying overnight, was going to have them home in the early hours of the morning. Oh well, why not!

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Lucien parked just round the corner from the theatre, he had noticed 'Camelot' was on for a short run, and knowing Jean's love of musicals decided he would take her to the show and supper afterwards.

"Oh, Lucien," she breathed, "how did you manage tickets, I heard it was booked up?"

"Just lucky I guess," he offered her his arm and escorted her to a box.

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The show was wonderful, she drank in every note and smiled at 'How to handle a woman,' wondering if he was taking notes. When Lancelot sang 'If ever I would leave you,' she felt Lucien take her hand, lean over,

"Never," he whispered in her hear.

"That was lovely," she sighed as the curtain came down, "thank you so much for bringing me."

"Supper?" he smiled, standing and extending his hand to her.

"Lovely," she stopped being surprised, but was still touched by all he had done for her, in one day.

He had booked a table at a small restaurant where they had a light supper, but no more wine, Jean said she didn't think she could manage anymore, after champagne at lunchtime. He agreed, he was going to drive back to Ballarat and perhaps it was for the best. The meal was delicious, light and tasty: a starter of grapefruit and orange cocktail, followed by poached salmon, salad and small, buttery potatoes, then a dessert of raspberry and champagne posset. There were so many other couples that Jean couldn't feel embarrassed at being there on a romantic night out. The lights were low and the music in the background was gentle, they held hands across the table and smiled.

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Alice turned over as she heard the door click closed. She still didn't believe Matthew had been romantic enough to take her to dinner, well a picnic, put up by Cec; who was thinking of a business sideline; by Lake Wendouree under the stars. They'd ended up in his bed at the Blake's, making love until they fell asleep, sated and happy.

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"Sh..!" Jean put her finger to her lips, "don't want to wake Matthew."

He lifted her into his arms, "tired?"

"A little, maybe," she smiled, "but I may just recover my strength, if you carry me to the bedroom," she looked at him from under her lashes.

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A very quickly written Valentine's day story.


End file.
